What We Really See
by irishartemis
Summary: The Phantom of the Opera longs to be with his Christine. Things unfold the night Christine first meets her Angel of Music face to face. A little bit of elaboration on those occurences and the thoughts of the Phantom. Complete.


**Note: **Phantom, Christine, and Madame Giryare Gaston Leroux's, adapted by Andrew Llyod Weber. Lyrics are by Andrew Llyod Weber and Charles Hart.

I _wish _I owned the Phantom...

* * *

He watched the scene in the dressing room play out between his Christine and the man she called 'Raoul.' He knew from the earlier dress rehearsal who the man was and what Christine knew of him. And he did not like it. She was clearly infatuated with this man. And it angered him.

He clenched his gloved hands, itching to throttle the man's neck. How dare he presume to know his angel so well? Did he give her the skills to sing so beautifully? Was it he who caused Christine's victory at the Opera Populaire this night? This Vicomte was simply a member of the lazy aristocracy. No more than that.

"…and now, we go to supper."

The Phantom's head snapped up and his eyes blazed.

"No, Raoul. The Angel of Music is very strict."

He smiled grimly at this.

The fool laughed. "Well, I shan't keep you up late." He laughed again.

"Raoul, no."

"You must change. I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte."

"No! Raoul, wait!" Christine cried as the Vicomte left.

Now, he was furious. This man was exceedingly arrogant, and he would not stand for it. Christine was _his_. As her dejected form sat at the vanity to remove the jewels she was adorned with, The Phantom took the opportunity he needed.

He ducked through a secret passage that took him into the hallway. Turning the key, he locked the door to the dressing room. After hearing the lock click, he pulled the key from the keyhole and put it into his vest pocket.

Madame Giry looked on anxiously.

He raised an eyebrow at her before disappearing back into the passageway. Instead of returning to the mirror, he went through an adjacent alcove and opened a mechanism allowing air from the cellars into the Opera House. This rush of air blew in a wind that extinguished all flames of light in a way that suggested a ghostly presence. One of his favorite tricks.

The Phantom crept back to the mirror in time to see Christine emerge from behind the changing screen. He felt his chest tighten as he noticed her attire – a flimsy dressing gown. He let the air rush through her dressing room, extinguishing the candles. The Vicomte would return soon.

Christine looked about anxiously as the light was extinguished. She glanced at the candles before turning to the door. He spoke out before she could discover the doors were locked.

"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion!

Basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor!

Sharing in my triumph!"

His angel looked toward heaven, looking frightened.

"Angel, I hear you! Speak I listen!

Stay by my side, guide me!

Angel, my soul was weak

Forgive me. Enter at last, master!"

The fear in her voice was evident. And he sought to calm her. His quarrel was not with her.

"Flattering child, you shall know me.

See why in shadow I hide.

Look at your face in the mirror,

I am there inside!"

He allowed the mirror to slide open, letting her see him. She starred back at him, entranced by seeing her teacher.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of Music, hide no longer!

Come to me strange Angel!"

"I am your Angel of Music.

Come to me, Angel of Music."

The Phantom heard the Vicomte's cries as tried to get into the locked room.

"Whose is that voice? Who is that in there!"

He reached for Christine, and held his hand out to her. He distracted her with his voice, making her forget the calls of the man outside the room.

"I am your Angel of Music…"

"Christine! Christine!"

"Come to me, Angel of Music…"

Christine paid him no mind. She reached for her Angel, taking his hand, and placing her trust in him. An Angel. Not a monster. He pulled her over the threshold, sliding the mirror closed behind her.

"Come with me," he whispered to her before taking her down the lit passageway.

As they walked past the ornate candelabra lining the walls, he occasionally glanced back at her. His Christine. She kept her hand in his, watching his every movement. Her eyes never left him. He could feel her gaze on him as they walked, and he smirked. Did she bestow such a favor on the Vicomte? _Hardly._

Once clear of the passageway, he took a torch from its mount on the wall. There would be no light where he was leading her now.

"In sleep he sang to me

In dreams he came…"

He glanced at her as she sang, watching her perfect mouth form the sweetest notes.

"That voice which calls to me

And speaks my name.

And do I dream again?

For now I find

The Phantom of the Opera is there,

Inside my mind."

She did not seem to notice her surroundings as they descended the stairs. Her eyes were trained solely on him. Transfixed.

He looked about cautiously. It was his home, but that did not mean uninvited guests did not venture into his realm. Yet, he could not keep from admiring her. Taking her deeper under the Opera House, he held the torch aloft. Showing her his world.

"Sing once again with me

Our strange duet

My power over you

Grows stronger yet…"

Christine glanced backwards the way they came. They were nearing the horse he had waiting.

He placed the torch in a wall mount. He knew how tiring the journey underground could be. Of course, he was used to it now. But he still remembered. He lifted her and placed her on the horse's back. Taking the reigns, he led her further on. She looked back again.

"And though you turn from me

To glance behind…

The Phantom of the Opera is there,

Inside your mind."

Pausing, he released the reigns and helped her off the horse. He would show her such sights. _His muse._ She would inspire him.

He got into the boat and helped her in, sitting her at the bow on a cushion. Then, he pushed off from the dock, steering them across the lake. Further, from the punishing world above. Into a world of music.

"Those who have seen your face

Draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear…"

"It's me they hear." He corrected her.

"Your spirit and my voice

In one combined.

The Phantom of the Opera is there,

Inside my mind."

They sang as sharing one mind. This pleased the teacher greatly.

As they neared a solid wall, The Phantom triggered an underwater mechanism that would raise the wall and reveal his home. His lair.

"In all your fantasies,

You always knew

That man and mystery…"

"Were both in you…" She finished, glancing back at him.

"And in this labyrinth

Where night is blind,

The Phantom of the Opera is here,

Inside my mind…"

"He's there,

The Phantom of the Opera…"

She vocalized notes, finding no other words to sing.

"Sing, my Angel of Music. Sing for me!"

They neared the shore of the island, but he wouldn't have her silence the beauty that came from her mouth.

"Sing, my Angel! Sing for me!"

Christine reached a higher note, pushing her voice. He knew it would not last. She'd shared her voice with Paris tonight. He would not have her damage it.

The boat lightly bumped the shore, and he jumped off. Setting the staff to steer with aside, he removed his cloak, flinging it to the ground.

She was here. _His Christine His Muse. _How he loved her. He would show her his world. The music. What she meant to him. Why the Phantom needed her. Not just for his music. But for himself. To take away his loneliness.

"I have brought you

To the seat of sweet music's throne.

To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music.

Music…

You have come here,

For one purpose and one alone.

Since the moment I first heard you sing,

I have needed you with me

To serve me, to sing.

For my music…

My music."

He gestured to his world and approached the boat…


End file.
